


Quiet Time

by BalefireFlatlands



Series: The Balefire [12]
Category: Mad Max (Video Game 2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-19 20:26:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17008632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BalefireFlatlands/pseuds/BalefireFlatlands
Summary: Scab and Blas have to make themselves scarce while Jeet does some trading.





	Quiet Time

Blas crawled back into his room, pulling the curtain shut behind him to block the entrance from view. They’d done some modifications to the alcove that had probably been an access panel to some sort of service corridor when the lighthouse was functional and while the entrance was still a very small square opening along the ground that could only be seen into while crouched down, the interior had been chiseled out to enlarge it. It wasn’t quite tall enough for Blas to stand up in but it was much roomier than it had been.

Currently it contained a mess of blankets, a flat mattress, some boxes, crates, a small electric lantern and one very cranky War Boy.

“Jeet says we can come out at sunrise.”

“This is stupid.” Scab crawled closer to the entrance, peeking out through the fabric.

For once Blas actually agreed with him, sighing he patted the spot on the mattress next to him waiting for Scab to slither closer. “It makes sense though. He’s gotta trade with these people and they hate Scrotus and Stank Gum more than anything. They won’t take real kindly to seeing someone who worked for them.”

“I’m not one of Lord Scrotus’ War Boys!”

Shushing him, Blas wrapped his hand around that loud mouth of Scabs. “Be quiet! You were and they don’t know that you’re not no more. You think they see a War Boy and realize you work for Jeet?” Blas grimaced and pulled his hand back as Scab slobbered all over it.

Scab glowered, “Lord Scrotus can get fucked by a rusty tire iron.”

“You still call him Lord Scrotus though.”

Huffing, Scab turned to look down at the ground. He didn’t have a response for that, couldn’t help the reflexive urge to continue to refer to him as his Lord and Master. Hands clenched in the ground as Scab fought an internal battle with himself before changing the subject, “You’re a Bullet Boy. You’re not from Gastown.”

It wasn’t so simple though. Blas rolled the unprotesting War Boy onto his back, kneeling at his side so that he could start undoing the belts that kept his legs pinned together. “Jeet says they’re from far enough East that they don’t know what the Bullet Farm is. They’d think I’m one of Stank Gum’s Vipers.”

“You’re too small to be a Viper. And you don’t look like you could skin a guy and keep him alive for fun.”

“You skinned someone?”

Back aching, Scab sat up shoving his limp legs into a better position. “I wasn’t a Viper neither. I’m a driver. I don’t need to skin anyone when I can just mash them with my car.” He snorted, glaring at the wall. “Was. Was a driver. Now I’m just a soft as mud bloodbag.”

Blas shoved at his hip, causing his lower half to jostle and nearly sending him toppling over, “Stop that. You’ve not been a bloodbag for months now. You’re a mechanic and you made all the water collectors that are keeping us alive.”

Scab was unconvinced, grumbling and leaning forward to rub at his legs. They hurt something fierce, or at least his brain was telling him they hurt. Stupid legs. Couldn’t move them and still they were causing him grief. “Imperator is just too busy to get rid of me.”

There wasn’t any convincing him, even though Blas had tried numerous times in the past. He sighed, setting aside the belts and chains that had kept his legs straight. “They hurt?”

“Yeah.” Flopping over to the side Scab worked his pants off, studying his legs as if he could see the source of the pain. Blas helpfully stroked down Scab’s thigh, almost able to encircle his withered leg with his hand. Scab was so skinny, just skin stretched over bone, every tendon visible, every deformed break in his hip and leg from his second story plummet onto the concrete floor was obvious. By contrast, from the waist up he was nothing but muscle, shoulders huge and broad from dragging himself around, his chest rippling as he twisted around to be able to reach his legs.

“What can I do to make you feel better?”

“You can make my stupid legs start working again.” Massaging at his knee he grumbled without looking at Blas, “And what’ll make me feel better I can’t do anyway.”

Blas just shrugged. “We could try.”

“My dick doesn’t work.”

“It works sometimes. If it’ll take your mind off your legs its worth a go.”

Scab looked up at him sharply, wondering if Blas was joking or making fun of him. Not that Blas ever did either of those things, but the idea that he was willing to do anything to make the War Boy happy was still such a foreign concept that Scab was suspicious immediately. “I wouldn’t be able to feel it, not worth it.” He wasn’t about to admit that sex wasn’t going to solve all his problems, and even if they managed to get his dick to function he knew that it would most likely be a terrible fuck for Blas who would have to do all the work. Blas deserved better. “What do you do when your arm hurts?”

“I lay on you and you tell me that you’ll fight every single Thrall Rustler for me.”

“I will. They ever come into the Imperator’s territory and they’re dead.”

“See? Better already.” Giving him a lopsided grin Blas pressed closer, laying against him and running his hand down his side to his leg.

“Don’t touch ‘em. Stupid traitor legs. Don’t deserve nothing.”

Blas didn’t stop, sitting up so he could rub at Scab’s scrawny legs further. “They’re fine. They’re attached to you and that’s good enough. Your legs help you balance, and when wrapped up in blankets they generate heat.”

“Shoulda cut them off.” He curled up so he could watch Blas caress him. Mentally he knew what that would be like, he’d been touched before, though never with this kind of care and tenderness so he was having trouble really imaging it. He playfully flicked his toes, the only part below the waist he still had any control over.

Grinning Blas trapped his toes between his fingers. “Can you feel this?”

“No. Well, I can tell your hand is warm, but not that you’re touching it.”

Blas squeezed his toes and Scab shook his head. It was strange, he couldn’t sense it when he dragged himself around and scraped his toes on the metal grating of the catwalk, but he could tell that the catwalk itself was cold. Blas slowly worked his hand up Scab’s leg, experimentally rubbing him to see what sensation he had left. The results of that survey weren’t good: from his ankles to his waist he was nice and warm but the stimuli wasn’t getting through to Scab’s brain. Occasionally his muscles would twitch, but not in response to Blas’ stroking, just a random reaction of atrophied muscles.

This was all making Scab very uncomfortable. He wanted the attention, but the fact that Blas was inspecting his damaged, broken lower half make him uneasy. Would this be the time that Blas realized he was just a worthless husk and get Jeet to kick him out? He was weak and he was crippled and for all his pride Scab knew that he couldn’t survive on his own. Without the safety of the lighthouse and being fed like a prisoner he would have died a long time ago. If left outside he’d dehydrate and die within days. He wouldn’t even be able to move; unable to get any traction in the deep sand surrounding the stronghold. But Blas just smiled at him, laying down on his side facing Scab, good arm under his head.

“My turn.” Scab propped himself up on his elbow hungrily eyeing Blas. He tugged at the waistband of Blas’ pants and the Bullet Boy obediently rolled away and pulled his pants off, shivering a little in the chill of evening air. Scab started down at his toes, tickling his feet and getting Blas to giggle and squirm before he started his exploration. Blas didn’t often lay on his good arm which meant this was one of the few times that Scab had really seen his damaged left side. He ran his hand up the deep upbraided scar that started mid calf and went to his thigh. “Were you dragged behind a car?”

“No, I was too close to an explosion and it knocked me a good ways along the ground. That’s what happened to this too.” He curled his lip, poking his tongue into the empty space where his left canine and the neighboring tooth should have been.

Scab grunted, exploring the texture of the scar beneath his fingers and tracing some more of Blas’ signature bullet tattoos before moving up to his waist. There were more scars here: thin, purposeful knifemarks all across his groin and backside. The Bullet Boy flinched as Scab traced one of them before visibly getting ahold of himself and relaxing into the attention. They were from the Thrall Rustlers. No point to them other than making sure he was in as much pain as possible while they were raping him. They were masters of torture, nothing that would ever permanently compromise his worth as a prisoner, but still making sure his existence was agonizing.

Fingers clenching, Scab narrowed his eyes, wishing he could replicate the Viper’s cruelty and skin some Thrall Rustlers alive for this. Instead he leaned down, softly brushing his lips against one of the deeper discolored scars on Blas’ thigh. Moving on he showed incredible restraint for not immediately going to Blas’ dick, sliding his hand along his side, a few more tattoos to stroke against before his hand found the Bullet Boy’s damaged arm.

The long puckered line from where Scab had sliced it open to relieve the infection was strangely smooth under Scab’s fingertips. He continued on down to the end, pressing against the jagged edges of bone just under the skin.

“Can you move this part below your elbow?”

“A little.” Blas’ brow furrowed as he tried to move what remained of his forearm. It was difficult and felt strange, so unlike his other arm. After being ripped off when he was dragged under the treads of the Peacemaker the shattered bones had all fused together as they healed, effectively solidifying his elbow.

The nub end of his arm was still sensitive even years since the injury. What passed for an Organic Mechanic at the Bullet Farm hadn’t thought to grind down the ends of his splintered bones so it wouldn’t tear at his skin as he healed. They’d probably figured he would die in a few weeks in the mine anyway, why waste the resources?

Scab cupped the end of his arm gently before his fingers started their journey up to his neck. “You’re so damn chrome.”

Blas flushed, his stained skin turning orange as he looked away, mouth opening to protest but no words coming out.

Shifting closer, Scab caressed the side of the Bullet Boy’s face before dropping his arm and dragging Blas right up against himself. Blas immediately molded to Scab, attempting to wrap his stump of an arm around Scab’s side.

“I thought you said Bullet Boys were 'soft weak rustbuckets what don’t know how to do nothin’”

“I did.” Scab engulfed Blas in his arms, happily squirming. “And they are.”

“Oh is that so?” Chuckling Blas propped himself up, struggling to pull himself out of Scab’s arms so he could look at him.

Scab tightened his grip, grinning huge. “That’s just a fact. Everyone knows that.”

Wriggling out of Scab’s grip Blas pushed the War Boy down onto his back so that he could kneel over him. “Maybe because War Boys have mouths the size of the salt flats and don’t know how to shut up.”

“You love the size of my mouth.”

“Do I?” Smirking Blas moved to straddle Scab, planting his palm in the middle of his chest to keep his balance. “I’m not sure I do.”

Scab grabbed at Blas’ hips, sliding him forward so he could prove just what his giant mouth was capable of. Blas gasped and fell forward curling up over Scab’s head, his arm flat against the ground to try and prop himself up and not completely fall onto Scab’s face.

The War Boy didn’t seem to care if he was about to be crushed, his hands firmly gripping Blas’ hips to keep him in place while he worked his tongue and mouth along the Bullet Boy’s dick. Engulfing him he slowly bobbed his head forward, teasingly slow as Blas shuddered and instinctively snapped his hips into that warm wetness. He let out the softest of moans as Scab started to work him, a life of being deprived of human contact making him so very sensitive.

Pulling off him Scab grinned his biggest grin, tilting his head back to try and actually see Blas rather than just his stomach, “You’re supposed to be being quiet. Guess Bullet Boys can’t listen to their Imperators either.”

Blas growled and jerked his hips backwards out of Scab’s grip, propping himself up he shimmied backwards to settle between Scab’s legs. “You’re the loud one.” He leaned down to lick Scab’s cock, a firm determined stroke from base to tip. It didn’t do anything as this seemed to be one of those times where Scab’s lower half played dead, but the visual of Blas doing it was enough to start Scab panting.

In the brief silence before Scab started breathing heavy they could hear Jeet arguing with someone on the first floor of the Lighthouse. Sounded like trade negotiations had started, which meant that Scab and Blas were just going to have to entertain themselves for a while. Blas carefully arranged Scab’s legs on either side of him as he knelt between them. Sucking on one of his fingers, he covered it in a thin layer of saliva before reaching down to Scab’s ass and working it inside him.

“You don’t have to…” Scab started to say, but was immediately cut off.

“I’m gonna anyway. I don’t wanna hurt you, even if you can’t feel it.” Blas gently worked him open, not that it took long with how relaxed Scab’s paralyzed half was. “I’m a soft rust bucket remember?”

Scab snorted, making grabby hands at him. He was numb to this part and wanted the nice friction against his upper half.

Eventually Blas pulled his fingers free, stroking himself a few times before plunging into Scab’s unresistant flesh. He made a soft sound and fell forward, bracing himself on Scab’s chest as he started to thrust. He very rarely had sex with Scab. Or with Jeet for that matter. Sickly, half-life, and exhausted he didn’t often think about sex. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy it when they had it, it just never occurred to him to be a thing they could do when instead he could take a nap while laying on one of them. So every time he did it was like an overload of sensation and stimulus that nearly sent him collapsing while making soft mewling noises.

Expecting that, Scab was ready to catch him, holding him up with barely any effort, the combination of Blas’ small, skinny frame and Scab’s shoulders being gigantic meant he weighed almost nothing to Scab. Coming back to himself he leaned forward, kissing all down Scab’s collarbone and chest as he tried to keep balanced on his one arm.

That’s what Scab wanted, eagerly leaning into the kisses and attention. He growled his approval, biting back at Blas’ neck as he got close. They were both panting and straining to get even more skin on skin contact with each other; Blas softly groaning and Scab eagerly running his hands all over him.

“Scab, if you can’t feel any of this, how do I make it good for you?” panted out as Blas tried to balance and keep up a steady rhythm.

“I can feel all the stuff above the waist.” The slip sliding of their sweaty skin, Blas’ warm breath against his neck, the way the Bullet Boy’s fingers clenched in his side as Blas started to lose himself. And on top of that, watching Blas be so vulnerable, letting himself be soft and exposed, was what really got Scab going. Sure he wished he could experience what Blas was doing to him, he’d been fucked plenty of times in his life, but never with any care about Scab’s wellbeing. Jeet was rough with him, but even he was restrained, making sure he didn’t accidentally injure Scab in some way he couldn’t feel; Scab couldn’t imagine what that would be like either. But this was an even more foreign sensation, Blas was soft and gentle, almost romantic as he rocked into Scab and panted out soft whines.

Scab wanted to know what that felt like, but the expression on Blas’ face would have been enough to get him off. Giving a sudden shudder, Blas pressed into Scab’s chest, muffling the deep moan of pleasure as his body gave out and he slid to the side. Well that was more like it. Now Scab got to do his favorite thing in the world: gathering a very limp Blas into his arms and huddling over him. It was one of the few times he got to feel powerful and protective; Blas curling into a tiny exhausted ball on the ground as Scab wrapped around him.

“Mmph.”

“Guess that showed me.”

“Shush Scab. You’re the worst.” Smiling fondly he relaxed against Scab, shifting around so that his back was to Scab’s chest.

Scab froze. Blas never laid like that, he didn’t like having people behind him, residual fear from the Thrall Rustler’s torturing him. This wasn’t just vulnerability, this was trust of the highest level. Scab twisted onto his side to carefully press against him, an arm snaking around Blas’ waist lightly; almost as if he was afraid the Bullet Boy was going to dart away. Instead he pulled Scab’s arm under his head, using his shoulder and upper arm as a pillow.

Nuzzling into his neck he watched as Blas fell asleep. He’d never in all his years imagined that he’d be in the stronghold of a wastelander cuddled up to a half-life Bullet Boy. It made him happy though, happier than he’d ever been even when he was driving, even while dominating and doing war. Guess he was the soft rust bucket after all.

A few hours later the curtain to their room shifted and Scab tightened his grip on the sleeping Bullet Boy, but it was only Jeet.

“How are you two doing in here?”

“Passing the time.” He chuckled and leaned down to kiss the top of Blas’ head. Blas murmured a few words but didn’t wake, shifting against Scab’s warm body still pressed against him.

Jeet glowered. “Having more fun than I am. Can’t take my eyes off these damn drifters or they start pocketing things.” He sat next to them, helpfully sorting out Scab’s jumbled legs so that he could comfortably lay on his side instead of being all twisted.

“Can we be loud now?” Scab reached out a hand, fingers tugging Jeet down to him by his vest.

“Tomorrow. They already threatened to scalp any War Boys they find and bring them to me for barrels of water. Stupid trade but I think they mean it.” Jeet did lean down and nose into Scab’s neck, wanting to stay but knowing better. The smell of sweat and cum arousing him on a very primal level and he needed to get out of there before he did something to ruin their cover.

“I’m holding you to that!”

“As loud as you want to be Scab. Tomorrow.”

Scab stretched and closed his eyes as Jeet backed out of the room. Yeah, he was definitely happier now than he had been as a War Boy. A soft Bullet Boy at his side who trusted him completely, and an Imperator who showed him favor. He didn’t think he deserved either of those things, but he was so so glad to have them.


End file.
